Page 58 of Timber Ridge

May chuckles, the sound rich with affection. “I think she was holding on to a little of her roots after all. Timber—strong, essential, and part of the forest that surrounds us.”

As I hear this, calmness overcomes me. Despite her fears and the drastic steps she took, there was a part of my mother that remained tethered to her beginnings. It gives me a newfound sense of connection, not just to my mother, but to May, and to the land that shaped them both. I found out my father was Scandinavian, and my mother was part Tlingit, a Native Alaskan tribe. Mom always said she was a native, but I assumed she meant Cherokee or Navajo. I sit here filled with pride for a heritage I never knew.

I think about her herbal remedies and ask, “Did my mother learn to heal from you?”

May nods. “I’m glad she passed that on to you. Now it makes sense. You knew about Devil’s Claw, and then there’s the potato salad.”

“Capers and bacon. It’s the only way,” I say. “You know, I have her book. It’s a journal with handwritten remedies and such.”

May’s mouth opens. “My sweet granddaughter. That’s my book. I always wondered about you and where you went. Your mother, when she changed her name, didn’t leave a trace, but I have never stopped looking and hoping.” She squeezes my hands. “It warms me to know I’ve been a part of your life, anyway.” After several hours of talking, it’s time to wrap it up. I stand and hug my grandmother.

“You should let me take you home,” she says.

I shake my head. “I need the walk and the time to process.”

“At least call Kane.”

“I’ll be okay. It’s still light, and I don’t want him to have to get Hailey out of bed.”

“He won’t mind. I see how he looks at you. I think that boy might be in love.”

“A girl can dream.”

I step outside, and the cool evening air brushes against my face as the door shuts behind me. I came here searching for my father, clutching a postcard and a handful of fragmented memories. But in this place, among these people, I found so much more.

I think about Kane, his warm, earnest gaze that seems to pierce right through me, understanding parts of me I haven’t yet figured out myself. And Hailey, with her bright, curious eyes—how she leans into my side when we watch TV, as if I always belonged there.

As I walk the familiar path, my thoughts drift back to May. The revelation of her being my grandmother has left a tender ache in my heart, a mixture of sorrow for all the lost years and a budding hope for what’s to come. I never imagined that my journey would intertwine my past and future so deeply.

I arrived here seeking answers about where I came from, but I wonder if this is where I belong.

Chapter Twenty-Five

KANE

I check the clock again. It’s been an hour since May called and said Timber was on her way. I can’t shake the worry about her walking home alone after such a heavy day.

Hailey’s asleep, totally unaware of everything going on outside her dreams. She insisted I read Cinderella before bed and then asked again if I’d marry Timber and if so, would there be a pumpkin carriage and a glass slipper. If only life were like fairytales and all stories had a happy ending.

That got me thinking about Timber and me, and if we’d get a happy ending. The only way that happens is if she decides to stay.

I continue looking out the window, wishing I could see her walking up the path. Is this what she did when I was stuck at sea? Was she worried sick about me, too? Did her gut twist and turn when every sound and shadow didn’t turn out to be me? Did she want to rush out and search but held back because she knew Hailey would need her? All these thoughts drift through my mind as I do several more passes in front of the living room window.

Each minute that ticks by seems like an eternity. After learning about her mother, what is she thinking? I know the story and the distrust it bred in town. Amanda’s actions didn’t help either. For me, it only intensified the suspicion that outsiders can’t be trusted. But Timber isn’t her father. She isn’t Amanda. She’s proven herself different, repeatedly, with her kindness and genuine efforts to fit into this community. She’s one of the good ones.

I’m at the window again, just staring out, when I finally see it—a shadow moving up the path. It’s slight and slow, but it’s there. Adrenaline surges through me, and without thinking, I’m out the door, racing across the yard toward her.

She looks exhausted. Her steps are slow, but there’s no sadness in her eyes, just a weariness that speaks more of physical tiredness than anything else.

“What were you thinking?” I blurt as I reach her.

She gives me a small, tired smile and says, “I was thinking it wouldn’t take me as long. In my mind, it was half as far because we always take the ATV.”

I’m half-amused despite my concern. “You had me worried, walking all by yourself this late after such a day.”

She lets out a soft laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to concern you. A lot happened today, and I needed some time to clear my head.”

We walk back toward the house together. “You don’t have to process this all alone. I’m here for you.”